


Stitches

by astudyinfic



Series: SongFic [1]
Category: SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angst, Bondlock, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, Or not, Self-Harm, Song fic, do not expect happy fluffiness here, however you choose to read it, not a Spectre fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left behind in favour of Madeleine Swann, Q struggles to put his life back together.  The way he manages it leaves everyone longing for the man he used to be.</p><p>Based on the song <i>Stitches</i> by Shawn Mendes.  All lyrics belong to him.  The rest of the words belong to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

_I thought that I'd been hurt before_  
_But no one's ever left me quite this sore_  
_Your words cut deeper than a knife  
_ _Now I need someone to breathe me back to life_

The door opened and Q though perhaps it had all been a bad dream.  A painful, realistic, gut-wrenching dream.  But here was Bond, right where he belonged.  In MI6, in Q-Branch, with Q. After SPECTRE and everything that had happened, having him there was a breath of fresh air.

Not that Q was going to let him off easily.  No, Bond had walked away with Dr. Swan without even a glance at Q.  He had let everyone believe he was gone for good.  He had made Q believe he was gone for good.  The pain he felt seemed unimaginable and he wondered if he would ever recover.  Did anyone recover when the love of their life turned their back on them (literally) and made them watch as the other person walked away with someone new?  Q hoped it had never happened to anyone else because it was a pain beyond all others.

But Bond was back and everything would be okay.  Bond obviously would have a good explanation for leaving a man he claimed to love behind.  Q smiled for the first time in days.

_Got a feeling that I'm going under_  
_But I know that I'll make it out alive_  
_If I quit calling you my lover  
_ _Move on_

It wasn’t that easy.  There was no happy reconciliation.  There were no kisses and hugs.  There was only Bond, twisting the knife once more.  Because apparently it wasn't enough for him to break Q’s heart.  He needed to watch the aftermath himself. The fact that he could smile and act as if this wasn’t the cruelest act of a man whose life was full of cruelty only made things worse.

Q thought he handled himself well.  There were no tears or accusations, no yelling or screaming.  Just a pain in his eyes that he couldn’t hide and the saddest smile he had ever given.  As Bond walked away, keys to the DB-5 and the shards of Q’s heart in his hand, Q wondered if he would ever survive.  It hurt more than anything he had ever experienced and deep down he knew he wouldn’t come out of this the same man.

_You watch me bleed until I can't breathe_  
_Shaking, falling onto my knees_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses_  
_I'll be needing stitches_  
_Tripping over myself_  
_Aching, begging you to come help_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses  
_ _I'll be needing stitches_

Tanner found him hours later.  When Bond left Q-Branch, he made a stop at M’s office, turning in his official resignation.  Seeing the keys to the Aston in his hands, Eve knew immediately where he had been and how that had to have affected Q.  Several calls to Q’s office went unanswered and none of the minions could get in past the security he had in place.  Only Tanner and M had authorization (as well as Bond but no one dared ask him for any help).  Even so, it took over an hour before they could get in.  When Q didn’t want to be disturbed, he didn’t do anything by halves.

Inside his office, it appeared as if he wasn’t there at first.  Nothing was out of place and there was no sign of the quartermaster when Tanner first walked in.  But when he walked around the edge of the desk, Q was crouched there on the floor.  Hands were clenched tight in his hair and though no tears were coming, he was still sobbing, his body wracked by each gulping breath.  “Call Medical!  We need a team down here right now.”  Tanner crouched beside Q, gently teasing his fingers out of his hair.  “It’s going to be alright Q.  Just relax.” 

But even as he said the words, Tanner wasn’t sure if they were true.  Q nails had dug into his palms and as Medical took him away, blood pooled in his cupped hands. 

_Just like a moth drawn to a flame_  
_Oh, you lured me in, I couldn't sense the pain_  
_Your bitter heart cold to the touch_  
_Now I'm gonna reap what I sow  
_ _I'm left seeing red on my own_

Q remained in Medical for several days, the sterile hospital room feeling more like a coffin than a place of healing.  It’s clean and controlled atmosphere was in direct contrast to a life spinning out of control. The stitches on his hands were a constant reminder of how far he had fallen, how he had let a man drag him down until there was almost nothing left.  Every thought of James had Q struggling to keep from crying out.  Never had a he allowed a man so far into his heart that the absence of him left Q empty.  And that was how he felt.  There was a James Bond-shaped hole in his life and nothing but James could fill it.

His friends worried, Tanner and Eve keeping near constant vigils.  No one wanted to leave him alone.  Even in the hospital wing, under the careful supervision of the doctors and nurses, everyone knew that if Q wanted to do something, he would find a way.  He was too brilliant.  Considering the numerous stitches in his hands from simply his own nails, they knew it was too dangerous to leave him alone.

Even after he was released, sent to a flat that no longer felt like home, Eve and Bill continued to visit.  They would bring food and funny stories from work, trying to get some reaction out of the young man who used to be so full of happiness and joy.  Now he sat and stared at the wall, seemingly immune to the life continuing to go on around him.

_Got a feeling that I'm going under_  
_But I know that I'll make it out alive_  
_If I quit calling you my lover  
_ _Move on_

It was two months before Q felt stable enough to call James.  He hadn’t expected an answer.  After all, who would answer a call from your ex who you callously left behind for someone newer and prettier?  But James Bond and tact did not often find themselves in the same sentence and the man answered the phone.  “Q?” he asked in an amused tone that just served to drive home that James wasn’t the man he had thought.  Or he was exactly the man everyone had told Q he was.  He had just been too stubborn to listen.

Q hung up, not able to go through with the conversation.  James called back many times, only to be met with the same voice mail message that Q had since he began work as quartermaster.  Eventually, Q changed his number, wishing to cut ties with the man and finally move on.

_You watch me bleed until I can't breathe_  
_Shaking, falling onto my knees_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses_  
_I'll be needing stitches_  
_Tripping over myself,_  
_Aching, begging you to come help_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses  
_ _I'll be needing stitches_

Cutting James Bond out of his life turned out to be much easier said than done.  Everywhere he looked, there was a reminder of their life together, both personally and professionally.  An intact Walter PPK, sitting in Q’s desk, still palm-printed to 007.  M had resisted promoting a new agent to the position and so the number remained untouched.  The various bric-a-bracs James had brought back from missions for Q had been placed in a box and given to Eve when Q realized he couldn’t look at them without crying, something that made work much more difficult.

Home was even worse.  There was nothing to distract him from the emptiness of the flat.  Finding one of James’ ties mixed in with Q’s own and prompted an episode where he had cried until he fell asleep on the closet floor.  The next day, everything that belonged to James was boxed and given to Eve as well, with the instruction to track down Bond and send it back to him.  Q didn’t need it anymore.  He was cutting James Bond out of his life one bit at a time.

If only he could do something about his heart.

_Needle and the thread,_  
_Gotta get you out of my head_  
_Needle and the thread,_  
_Gonna wind up dead_  
_Needle and the thread,  
_ _Gotta get you out of my head, get you out of my head_

James Bond came back to MI6, which anyone thinking clearly would have known would happen.  Being 007 was as much a part of James’ identity as was his Scottish heritage and tendency to drink too much.  He came back alone; no one dared ask where Madeleine was.  After Vesper, they had learned it was better not to know.  A brief meeting with M had him reinstated though as he passed Eve, she stopped him.  “Where are you going, James?”

“Q-Branch.  Need to check in on our dear quartermaster.”  There was a sincerity in his eyes that would have been heartwarming if it wasn’t already infuriating.

He didn’t need to be a secret agent to see the vein throb on Eve’s forehead.  “You aren’t going to like what you see.  None of us do.”  Before James could ask any questions, she continued, “Just remember that _you_ did this.  Maybe you might finally learn your lesson.”

With a tight voice, James asked, “And what lesson was that?” 

“That before you go running around the world with the next smart, leggy woman who catches your eye, perhaps you should check and see what you’ve needed all along is already beside you.”  Clear from her tone that she had nothing more to say, James narrowed his eyes and left the room, apprehensive about what he might find down in the bunkers.

_You watch me bleed until I can't breathe_  
_Shaking, falling onto my knees (falling on my knees)_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses_  
_I'll be needing stitches (and I'll be needing stitches)_  
_Tripping over myself,_  
_Aching, begging you to come help (begging, "Baby, please.")_  
_And now that I'm without your kisses  
_ _I'll be needing stitches_

Nothing appeared out of place as he stepped out of the lift and into the department he knew so well.  Before leaving two years prior, James had spent a lot of time here and it felt like a homecoming of sorts.  All he needed to do was find Q, convince the young man to forgive him and they could move forward.

It took a moment for James to spot him, despite the fact that Q stood in the middle of the room.  He looked so different, James was momentarily speechless.  With his normally fluffy hair combed close to his scalp and his eccentric attire replaced with a crisp grey suit that would have looked wonderful on anyone but seemed inappropriate on Q, the quartermaster appeared to be closer to his thirty-five years of age than he ever had before.  Even his socks, James noticed with some disappointment, were grey, where before they often bore bright colours or strange characters.  Though it had been two years, he told himself.  Eventually, the man had to grow up.

“Q,” James smiled, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch him the moment Q gave the okay.  He had been looking forward to this reunion most of all.  But when Q looked up, those green eyes he had adored (loved his mind supplied) were cold and empty.  The warmth and humour that had drawn him to Q were gone.  The sight struck him so hard he took a step back, trying to regain his composure.

“007,” Q replied with a nod, though his voice was near monotone, lacking any emotion.  “M informed that you returned.  You will find your kit is completely as you left it.  I trust the DB-5 has survived your latest adventure.  If not, deliver it to R this afternoon and she will schedule the necessary repairs.”  With that, he turned back to his computer. 

There was no anger, no passion, no… nothing.  The giggly young man who would laugh at his own jokes and quip back at James as good as he got seemed miles away from this somber, nearly robotic creature that stood in front of him.  Finally, James understood what Eve had warned him about. 

“Q?” he gasped softly.  “What happened to you?”

He received no response.

_(And now that)_  
_I'm without your kisses_  
_I'll be needing stitches_  
_(And now that)_  
_I'm without your kisses  
_ _I'll be needing stitches_

It took some time for James to discover what had happened.  For days, he watched hour after hour of CCTV footage, starting with the moment he left Q-Branch the two years prior.  His fingers strained to help Q as he sobbed, clawing at his own hands.  Slowly, as the weeks and months went by, that passionate but broken man was replaced by the emotionless quartermaster they have today.  If James cried a few tears at what had been lost, he felt thankful he was in his own office where no one could see.  He had lost so much in his life, most to circumstances beyond his control.  Now that he knew what he was missing, what had been there all along and he was too blind to see it, he had lost that too.  This time to his own stupidity and arrogance.

“Agent down.  Evac, please report,” he heard Q saying, the next time he ventured down that way.  Bond spent a lot of time in Q-Branch now, observing for any sign of the Q he knew before he left.  When Evac reported in that the agent was dead, Q simply nodded, made a note, and continued on.  “Very well.  Report back when you are in a safe location.”

Sensing this was his best chance to talk to him, James requested a quick meeting with Q, who agreed.  Following behind, James noted no sign of any distress, despite having lost an agent mere moments before.  The second the door to Q’s office was closed, James spun on him, “What happened to you?  Do you not care at all that the man just died?”

“Does it help them if I care?  Would it make his death more meaningful if I cry over him?  I’ve been informed caring is not an advantage.  You yourself taught me that it is true.  Caring for any of you only causes me more pain.”  He looked on at James impassively, as if he were truly unconcerned about anything he was saying.

“What happened to you?” James sighed.  “You used to be filled with life and joy and enthusiasm.  I never thought this job would bring you down like it does the rest.”

“It wasn’t the job.  I told you, you taught me this lesson.  The lesson that my heart is the most fragile part of my body but that it is also possible to live without it.  I already have enough scars from our relationship,” –with that he held out his hands to show James where the stitches had been after his breakdown – “what is one more?”

“But Q,” James implored, unsure what to say but wishing he could get through to the quartermaster. 

Q dismissed him with a wave of the hand.  “Please show yourself out.  I must inform M that he needs a new 002.  That will be all, Bond.”

With a heavy heart, James walked away, wondering if this was punishment for every wrong he had ever done.  Not only had he lost Q, seemingly forever, but the world had as well.  And it was all his fault.  The man who had let double-oh agents cry on his shoulder, the one who had cried over each and every agent lost in the field, now an unfeeling robot who seemed unperturbed by the death of one of their own.  James’ own heart broke at the thought as he made his way miserably back upstairs.

Maybe Q was right.  Maybe caring wasn’t an advantage at all.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for the angst. I finally got my post-Spectre feels out on paper. I promise that I'll be back to my fluffy, happy, kinky stuff soon.


End file.
